


Me, myself, and I

by STOVE



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Addressing past trauma, Alternate Universe: No TUE, Captivity, Crack Taken Seriously, Dan might have some PTSD, Danni but technically she's not a clone this time?, Dark Dan - Freeform, Dark Dan redemption arc, Gen, Ghost Cores, Mild Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dan, bastard dan, because Dan, paternal instincts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28624932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STOVE/pseuds/STOVE
Summary: This is a universe in which the Observants had the goddamn sense to mind their own business and actually trust Clockwork to do his job. As a result, the shit that leads to Danny fighting his evil self doesn't happen.Instead, Dan-Dan my man, my favourite evil Double-D, the Dark Douche himself, gets his ass yeeted out of his own timeline, because he is such an insufferable twat, and into Good Boy Danny’s universe. Dan gets captured by the GIW upon his arrival and they shoot him with a great big gun that fractured his core, leaving him hella pissed off but too weak to do anything about it.Now, held as a prisoner he bides his time, slowly recovering, killing whatever they throw into his room, and being grumpy until he can escape. I wonder who they'll toss in his room next?
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	1. Dan's Grand Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> I had a fun thought. This is it.

After all the shit he's been through, it's come to this. Despite the people he's killed, the cities he's burned, the havoc he wreaked, and the ghosts he's pissed off, he never thought it would end like this… 

Here lies Dan. 

Literally. He's laying on the floor. 

He's fine, he's just being a dramatic bitch because the GIW stuck him in a nice little ghost proof room after he was oh so politely  _ yeeted _ out of his own universe by some musty smelling jackass who called himself the "Master of Time", like, pretentious much? 

Anyway, on the floor, in a bright white room (because of course it has to be white) Dan is sulking. There's one ghost proof door, four ghost proof walls, twelve fluorescent lights and a nice neat row of five gouge marks all the way around the room at hip height. Now you may be wondering, why the hell would _Dan the Destroyer_ , _The Devourer_ himself, bother to know the specific number of fluorescent lights on the ceiling? Because he's been staring at this exact ceiling at it for fucking _months,_ what kind of idiot wouldn't know? 

White walls and white floor and white ceiling and oh yeah, the big beautiful two-way observation window (also ghost proof) so not only can he watch himself wallow in self-pity, but he has an entire audience of nerds to watch him too. 

The sad part is, last week he wouldn't've complained, or even cared honestly. Same with the week before that and all the months before that. But now? Now, shit's gone sideways and Dan is starting to reevaluate the life choices that lead him to this point. 

There's a lot to go over.

Apparently in this universe/ timeline/ dimension/ whatever, the GIW figured out how to track ghost portals and even predict when and where the bigger ones would show up. Big ass portals like the one that spit him out. 

Thanks to the musty bastard, Dan was already weaker than he'd been in years when he landed. Who knew travelling to a different universe really takes it out of you? And of course, the GIW just had to be waiting in ambush with a Really Big Gun. 

Whatever they shot him with was probably designed to completely obliterate whatever they aimed it at, if their surprise at his not-death was anything to go by. But it was a  _ damn _ close call. Their weapon blew away his corporeal form and reduced him to his core. Hell, they even managed to chip a chunk off of his core. It must have been Grade A Entertainment for their science nuts to watch him reform around his core (no matter how violated he feels just thinking about someone watching). 

But when he did come back to consciousness in a containment chamber, and not even strapped to a table, he was surprised, to say the least. He's got a hunch these GIW have never seen a ghost core before which is why they decided to keep him under observation. That or he was too much effort to kill. Not that he's going to correct them either way. If they think he's unique he might as well milk it until he could fully recover and get his revenge. 

When he'd first reformed, Plan A was to play the part of a peaceful ghost. If he gained their trust it'd be easier to escape later (and he could look forward to seeing some shocked faces of betrayal!).

Plan A lasted all of ten seconds after the first foolish scientist entered his room and he instinctively ripped the intruder's head off.

It was no Ghost Zone, but he had reformed in this room so it was his lair now. Finders keepers, no take-backs. His craving for violence was sated by fiercely guarding his little territory, killing all who dared enter. It took two more decapitations for the humans to take the hint and leave him be.

Or so he thought. They decided to take advantage of his territorial rage. Every now and then they would deposit a ghost or some other unlucky creature into his room and watch as he tore it to shreds. One after another they dumped sacrifices into his room. The next ghost they 'fed' him was always stronger than the last one. His fights were always a few days apart but consistent enough that it became a pleasing routine. Even though it left a bad taste in his mouth to know he was being used, he thoroughly enjoyed the carnage he wrought. As time went on life in captivity was almost preferable.

In his white room, all he had to do was fight and sleep. No responsibilities or worries, no vendettas, no grand schemes, no bothersome interactions, no fear of being hunted or wondering what his next move would be. In his room, all he had to do was exist. It was mindless. Addicting.

Of course, with the added spice of voyeurism, Dan always had to make a show of using his fangs to deliver the killing blow. Was it necessary? No. Hell, it wasn't even efficient, but he could just imagine the looks on those scientists' faces, all their eyes on him behind the two-way window. He knew he was a sight. 

The satisfaction of ripping out throats with his teeth was a special kind of treat. The tingling taste of cool, wet, ectoplasm on his tongue, feeling it run down his face and neck. The pressure on his teeth as they clamped down, making the muscles in his jaw and neck flex. He almost wished that ghosts had more lifelike anatomy so that he could also enjoy the soft crunch of crushing an esophagus. 

It was a simple pleasure he indulged in.

That, and he wanted to disguise the real killing blow as he crushed the ghost’s core. If his assumptions were right, the false uniqueness of his core form and ability to completely end another ghost was what kept him off of the dissection table. The less they knew the better. 

So that became the status quo; Dan sat in a corner of his room, the GIW scientists fed him ghosts, Dan killed the ghosts, and no one bothered him until his next 'meal'. It went on for who knows how long; at least several months had passed now. It was hard to tell time in a white box when the lights stayed on 24/7 and he lacked a circadian cycle. That and he really couldn't be assed to care. He was healing, he could kill to his heart's delight, and he didn't have to think, that's all that mattered. 

Until about a week ago when his regular 'feedings' suddenly stopped. 

When his regularly scheduled deathmatch was a few days late the itch under his skin to get into a fight started to bubble up. Without an outlet he took to pacing circuits of his room, dragging his fingers along the walls as he went. The anti-ghost walls stung when he dug his claws into them but the pain was a welcome source of stimulation compared to sitting quietly like a good dog. More days passed and the ring around his room grew deeper; his hands going numb to the sting. To say Dan was feeling a bit 'hangry' would be an understatement.

His rational mind knew this was some type of test. They were watching to see what he did when they took away his 'meals'. Maybe they ran out of cannon fodder and were hoping to starve him out. A small part of him hated how well they'd trained him to fight on command, but he was more than willing to ignore that part if it meant that he could sink his teeth into whomever he pleased. 

Bite on command Dan, drool for the bell like Pavlov's dog. 

So this is it. Here lies Dan, splayed out like a pathetic starfish during a rare break from his pacing because he can't get into a fight. Like some pent up teenager all pissy because they can't get their rocks off. He might as well just die if this is how he's going to spend the rest of his life-

The sound of mechanical locks moving into place, blares like a klaxon, shattering Dan's train of thought.

He's on his feet. Someone, or something, is going to enter his room. 

Electric excitement thrums through his body, singing in anticipation of a fight. He knows his eyes are glowing, tinting his vision with a red haze. Pavlov be damned! He wants to fucking kill something!!

Dan's core flares at the primal thought of both defending his lair and defeating an enemy. The last giant beasty they tossed in with him had managed to last more than a few minutes. Maybe that's what took them so long, they had to find a stronger opponent for him! 

All his senses sharpen, bordering on sensory overload. His muscles flex and bunch, ready to strike.

His bloodlust boils, reaching a crescendo as the door slides open to reveal-!

...an unconscious little girl. A tiny tiny little unconscious girl??

Dan is so confused he stalls midstep, claws raised and everything. His raging  _ fight! fight! fight! _ high from seconds ago flatlines into nonexistence. DAN.exe has stopped running. 

_ This  _ is his opponent?

Should he be… offended? Insulted? This feels insulting. Is it a jab at his skills that he had to have his next challenger knocked out beforehand? His years of conquering and killing taught him not to judge power by appearances but this is literally a child. Not that he hadn't killed children before, that's definitely not the issue. This is just so, weird. 

Shaking himself out of his puzzlement Dan stalks forward to the unconscious little thing. 

He's so thoroughly perplexed by this turn of events that his core isn't even screeching in offence at having an intruder in his lair like usual. 

Looming over the girl he eyes the plain white clothes that practically swamp her tiny body. Some kind of GIW uniform. The shirt reaches her elbows and the pants cut off just below her knees. She has the normal glow of a ghost but she's breathing. Freshly dead, maybe? He wouldn't put it past the GIW to kill kids for the sake of their fucked up goals. Her skin is an oddly human tan colour (weird), but her hair is unnaturally snow white (less weird). Much more normal for a gh- wait.

Wait a fucking second.

Dan squints, squatting down to roll the kid onto her back and get a better look at her face. Oooooh he recognized that face. Just what the  _ hell _ have those GIW sons of bitches been up to? The white hair, the human skin colour, the breathing, the facial structure, the creepy glowing green eyes- 

"AAAAAAA!!" The tiny girl version of him shrieks like a banshee and kicks Dan straight in the face.

"AAAH!" Dan shouts in surprise falling on his ass. His mini-me wastes no time scooting as far away from him as she can get, pressing herself against the far wall. Dan stares in bewilderment. Only then did he realize that she got him right in the nose and DAMN does it hurt. 

And yet, he isn't mad. Of all the revelations in the last ten seconds that might be the weirdest one. His core isn't screaming for blood or revenge, it's just… sitting? Content? 

"What the  _ fuck _ ," he whispers to himself emphatically, repeating it like a mantra that would magically bring some goddamn clarity to this situation. There is a tiny little girl version of his past self sitting in front of him and he doesn't feel murderous for the first time since he'd died. 

Is she this universe's version of him? Or maybe the daughter of his alternate self? Dan has seen and experienced a lot of weird things but this is pushing his top five, maybe even his top three.

She's staring at him like she expects him to jump up and eat her any second now, which, fair, seeing as he's also wondering why he hasn't murdered her yet.

The silence is really awkward.

"Hey kid," he calls out tentatively and she squeaks in response, curling up tighter but still keeping her eyes trained on him.

Oh no, that's so adorable.

…. 

_ Pardon the fuck  _ brain, but  _ what?  _

The door suddenly opens again and a catchpole with a metal lasso at the end is reaching out to grab his mini-me. Now  _ that  _ triggers the rage he's used to with a roar that sounds suspiciously like  _ MINE. _

In a flash he has the pole in one hand, crushing the metal like paper. With his other, he grabs the girl by the scruff of her shirt, pulling her behind him and away from the door. He picks her up like that and heads for his preferred sitting corner. The urge to protect feels old and dusty, like it's out of tune with his usual desires. But the selfish whispers that tell him to keep and to possess feel more natural and he latches onto the familiar feelings. 

Depositing the quivering little Halfa on the floor, Dan sits himself in front of her criss-cross-apple-sauce. He intentionally places his back to the door, putting himself between her and any who might try and take her away. The corner is the most defensible position, the safest place to keep valuable objects. 

_ The safest place to keep her.  _

The thoughts bubble up from his core unbidden but they feel right, all laced with an undercurrent of possessiveness. A hissing  _ mine mine mine  _ on repeat in the back of his head like a demented broken record. 

Dan barely resists the bizarre urge to gather up the girl in his arms like a kitten. Though, if she's anything like him she'd probably try to scratch his eyes out and kick his face again. The thought makes him oddly proud. And confused again. All these feelings are weird and intrusive and he doesn't like it. 

Instead, he glares down at his mini-me. Despite her terror tremors, she glares back. 

Oh, she would make an excellent apprentice. Maybe even a great daughter. Dan had never considered having kids before but this new wave of paternal instinct was making the idea sound very appealing. 

Paternal…

Apprentice… 

God damn. This is a Plasmius thing, isn’t it?

Back then, when he was abandoned by his human half and forced Plasmius into a merge, Dan had come through as the dominant personality. He had absorbed all of Plasmius' power and only small parts of his personality. 

And apparently, his obsession to have an heir.

Dan heaved an entirely unnecessary and too loud sigh, throwing himself backwards onto the floor. He's only known this little Halfa for ten minutes and already he's adopted her. Great. 

This is his life now.

Fatherhood.


	2. Double-D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan has only known Danni for half a day but if anything happened to her, he will be pulling an Extreme Rosa Diaz.

After several hours of very awkward silence Mini-Dan had indeed tried to kick him in the face again. Now she's sitting on the other side of the room in her own corner, all curled up like a suspicious kitten. Terribly adorable. Absolutely awful. But still not a peep out of her which means that Dan is going to have to lead the conversation. Ugh.

The room is obviously rigged to record audio and visuals for 'the sake of science and ghost eradication' or whatever excuse the GIW are using in this timeline. Dan isn't thrilled about giving them any information about him or his brand new miniature cellmate, but it can't be helped.

"Sooooo… " Dan calls out across the empty white room, his voice echoing, "Where did you come from?"

The kid just stares at him blankly. Angrily? Maybe that’s just her face. Baby Resting Bitch Face, ha.

"Can you speak? Like, at all?" He tries again.

More blank stares.

"Mmmmmkay, so maybe not English. Let's try _Ghost Speak. Inherent language of the dead. Can you understand now, mini-me?_ "

Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. Arms flying out to the side and sitting up straight she shouts, " _YOU CAN TALK!??_ "

" _Well thank fuck for that. Yeah kiddo, Ghosts,_ ” he gestures between them, “ _Ghost Language. Comes with the territory. You know any other languages?_ " Not that Dan knows any other languages besides english and ghost speak, but it’s handy information to have. Good strategy to take stock of potential skills and resources.

" _No, I haven't been here for very long._ "

Dan frowns a bit at her wording, " _Here as in, the GIW- uh, the white-walls-place? Or here as in existing?_ " He asks.

She mirrors his scowl, " _The second one, I think? Both?_ " Dan hums. That was not the answer he expected.

" _You got a name?_ "

" _What's a name?_ "

Okaaaaaay, so that's a concept Dan never expected to have to explain to anyone. This day is just full of all sorts of surprises, huh. Dan scratches absently at the back of his neck trying to think of a decent answer.

" _Uuh, a name is what people call you, it’s like, um, your personal word that means you? Some people are given names and some people pick their own._ ”

Mini-Dan nods her head in what looked like understanding so he figures the concept is translating through ghost speak just fine.

“ _For example,_ ” he says, puffing out his chest a bit, “ _I am known as Dan the Destroyer, Demon of Darkness and Bringer of Death. But just Dan is fine._ " Sure, it's wordy but the alliteration is bitchin’ and anyone who ever said otherwise is long dead and toasted, fuck you very much.

“ _Isn’t that kind of long and dumb?_ ”

And the paternal instincts are being tested already it seems.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

" _I'm going to call you Dan-Dan."_

_"What? Oh come on! Why!?_ "

She grins mischievously.

" _Because it seems like something that would annoy you."_

_"You little shit,_ " Dan has to keep himself from outright laughing at the sheer audacity of this little fucker. " _Y’know what? Two can play that game pipsqueak. I'm naming you Danielle."_

_"Did you just name me after yourself!? SERIOUSLY?"_

_"I absolutely did, yes. Because guess what? I’ve been calling you Mini-Dan in my head this whole time!_ "

Mini-Dan, now officially dubbed "Danielle", bursts out laughing.

She's slowly been uncurling from her scrunched up spot in the far corner the longer they talked. Inch by inch scooting closer to Dan, lowering her defenses and relaxing into their banter.

It makes something deep in Dan's core thrum with satisfaction. He's surprised that he’s enjoying the presence of another person so much. He's still suspicious of what the GIW’s plans were for Danielle and how she came to be here but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind. Though, he can't help flickering his attention to the observation window and ominously blinking cameras high on the ceiling.

Sudden and abrupt silence draws Dan's attention back to Danielle. It almost looks like she's still laughing but her breathing is harsh and wheezing in all the wrong ways. She's curled forward clutching her gut, shivers wrack her little frame making her shake like a leaf. Her inhales are sharp and erratically spaced like she can't get enough air. Slightly green tinted sweat drips from her brow onto the cold floor in near silent 'plips' and stains her white clothes a minty colour.

Dan is by her side before he can think, but he stops and hovers uncertainly. His hands are much more suited for destruction than healing these days. Helping people is a far away shadow in his past. Should he… pat her back? Hold her hair in case she pukes? Should he give her space?

Then he notices his little Phantom flickering haphazardly in places like TV static. Her form shuddering in and out of visibility arounf the edges in an unhealthy way. Parts of her form droop like melting wax only to spring back into place a second later. The air around her is thick with ambient ectoplasm, tangy and coiling in Dan's nose and on his tongue. A quiet realization dawns on him.

She's unstable. 

That was their plot. They sent her in here to be disposed of. Then, when Dan didn't react how they wanted him to, they tried to take her back so they could try a different method.

Dan feels his core fluctuate, first in sympathetic pulses then with flares of anger. This time he doesn't resist the urge to gather her up into his arms and holds her close to his chest, right against his core. Her lethargy is distressing. She leans against him limply, too weak to move on her own or complain as her form flickers more violently. He holds her tighter, her tiny frame engulfed by his embrace.

On a whim he sends a flare of his core energy towards her, soft vibrations that hum with power. He can feel her core respond weakly with a baby purr of its own.

If her core vibration is a purr then Dan's is a roar. It shakes the air around them and rattles the two-way glass in its frame. When the lights overhead start to flicker and Danielle whimpers softly, Dan reels himself in slightly. Going from a roar to a growl; a low rumble like an idling engine. He has no idea how to take care of an injured ghost let alone a fresh-outta-the-oven halfa but this feels right.

After a few minutes his waves of energy seem to settle Danielle's shakes but she's still wheezing and making pained little noises.

What now? Does she need to eat? Change forms? How much does the GIW know? What will they do to her if they find out what she is? Do they already know? Did they do this to her? Will her form eventually stabilize or will she continue to deteriorate? 

Too many questions, not enough answers. Dan can feel himself falling into a familiar spiral.

What the hell is he supposed to do now? The plan was simple when he was alone but now there's suddenly this red hot coal of worry in his chest. His desire to eventually blow this popsicle stand doesn’t play out the same way if he’s got to watch out for his mini-me. And it's not like he can just leave without her. Maybe in the past he would have but now the very thought of leaving her behind feels like it would fracture his core all over again. All because of the trembling bundle of ectoplasm and bones in his lap that he's known for less than five hours.

Yeah, so definitely not an option. Could he teach her his smoke trick? Or his Wail? No. Those took him years to learn on his own, even with him here to teach her it might take longer than she has left. He doesn't really care what happens to himself. He’s already dead and lost everything worth living his afterlife for. There’s not much else that could take him lower than the rock bottom of this pit he’s found himself in. Safe to say his self preservation is long gone. That traitorous bastard skipped town at the first opportunity and never looked back.

Ugh! Fuck his instincts! Fuck Plasmius and his obsession, this sucks! His core aches, his throat is sore, his eyes burn. He wants to rip apart whoever did this to his little Phantom.

If anything happens to her he's going to burn this facility to the ground and then the rest of this world too, even if he destroyed himself in the-

" _Hey Dan-Dan? You can stop squishing me, I feel better now._ "

Dan picks Danielle up under the arms like a wet cat, and raises her to his eye level (which wasn't really difficult considering she's at least half ectoplasm and his biceps are the size of her head).

" _What the hell was that!??"_

_"Dunno, it just happens sometimes."_

A shaky exhale escapes Dan unbidden and he gently butts his forehead against Danielle's.

_"Kid, you are going to be the death of me._ "


	3. PC Observation Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stressed Intern Intermission aka "How convoluted can you make the exposition?"

_About three days ago…_

_Somewhere in a GIW lab basement, an underpaid, overenthusiastic intern is compiling an observation report for their supervisors. Their coffee is long cold and forgotten but that doesn't matter. What's important is getting this report submitted before 5pm._

**GIW Observation Report #63738: Phantom Class**

Subspecies of ectoplasmic entity, hereafter referred to as PC (Phantom Class). Subspecies currently includes three documented subjects: PC-1, PC-2, PC-2.5. 

* * *

**Phantom Class Specter Visual ID:** All subjects share similar physical attributes and ecto signature readings. Power levels vary within the 5-8 range.

  * Spectral form is humanoid and extremely detailed with an unusually high density.
  * All PC specters have white hair. Hair does not follow any form of earthly physics. Texture ranges from conventional humanoid, to gasseus mist or flame-like.
  * Spectral body has a 'human' skin tone, uncommon in specters (Noted exception of PC-2).
  * Black and white attire with flaming 'D' insignia present (Significance unknown, family crest? Logo?)



_The intern shuffles through several different sets of lab notes, deciphering shorthand and scientific chicken scratch._

_It's hilarious that none of these bigwig ectologists want to admit it looks like a superhero outfit. How insecure do you have to be in your own nerdom to have a PhD and not even mention these ghosts obviously look like knock off comic book characters?_

Special Note: Specters PC-1 & PC-2.5 can maintain a 'human' appearance (Caucasian, black hair, blue eyes, adolescent).

* * *

**Phantom Class Points of Interest:**

●Power level denoted by physical size, perceived age/physical maturity of spectral form. As previously noted, PC specters range from level 5-8, making them a relatively strong subspecies and warrant caution when handling. PC-2 in particular is highly combative and has caused several in-fiacility fatalities.

 _The day PC-2 reformed_ was pretty _traumatic... but that asshole Kevin from department C got his head ripped off so it wasn't a complete write off._

_Well, they paused typing for a moment, for everyone but Kevin._

Observations:

  * PC-2.5 physically appears to be the smallest, taking the form of a young adolescent humanoid female, approx~ 5'3". It has the lowest power level of the PC specters at a solid 5. Though this is much stronger than most newly formed ghosts it is not unheard of.
  * PC-1 takes the humanoid appearance of an older adolescent boy, approx~ 5'7", with more defined musculature than PC-5.2. PC-1 has maintained a fairly consistent level 7 since it's capture (see document, Capture Report 031507: Spectral Anomaly - "Phantom", for details).
  * PC-2 has the largest spectral body and highest power level of the PC specters at a high level 8. PC-2 takes the form of a heavily muscled humanoid male, approx~ 6'2".



_Oh how much simpler it would be to just write "the ghost is freaking jacked". Why does scientific prose have to be so dull? Shouldn't these reports have a bit more… pizzazz? It's bad enough writing them but would it really be terrible to make them more enjoyable to read? It's not like everyone here is a robot that can sift through these things for hours on end._

  * PC-2 differs from the other PC specters in that it has more traditional 'ghostly' features than PC-1 & PC-2.5: light green skin, pointed ears, enlarged canines, red eyes and flame-like hair. It's attire also differs from the others in that it has a cape that the others do not possess.



Proposed Theories:

  * PC specters continue to absorb ectoplasm and gain power the longer they exist. Their spectral bodies change to reflect their power as a warning to other specters. This gives the impression that specters in the PC appear to 'age' according to their ectoplasmic energy levels.
  * As we know, ectoplasm acts like a battery capable of holding a maximum charge. By 'growing', PC specters can change the amount of ectoplasm they have access to, therefore increasing their 'maximum charge'.



●Shapeshift ability observed in subjects PC-1 & PC-2.5. As previously noted, subjects can maintain a 'human' appearance (Caucasian, black hair, blue eyes, adolescent).

Observations:

  * Specters PC-1 & PC-2.5 appear as humanoid male and female adolescents, respectively. These two are of particular interest because they possess both a spectral 'ghost' form and a cloaking ability that allows them to maintain a 'human' form as well.
  * Specter PC-2 has not displayed any form of cloaking mimicry.
  * PC-2 has exhibited strong territorial behaviours not observed in PC-1 or PC-2.5.
  * Despite receiving substantial core damage PC-2 is considerably stronger and more dangerous than specters PC-1 & PC-2.5. 



Proposed Theories:

  * Previously unobserved evolutionary survival tactic present only in some/all (?) young/new specters. Targeted towards avoiding detection by humans and/or other specters while establishing themselves.
  * 'Human form' is an ability special to juvenile PC specters only. PC-2 is a fully developed/matured PC specter and has since lost it's juvenile ability/need to cloak. 



_It's kind of messed up that these ghosts look so much like real kids. The green blob shaped ones that just shriek and throw stuff? Now that's a genuine spook, but these new ones that look like people? That act like people, speaking, sleeping, crying and bleeding? It feels wrong._

_Can't put that in the report though. This job pays REALLY well (after agreeing to sign like fifteen NDAs of course.) Stop thinking about it._

_Take a sip of cold coffee and wash down the taste of questionable ethics. Ew, that just tastes worse than before._

●'Core Splintering' defense mechanism observed during the capture of PC-2 that lead to the accidental creation of PC-2.5 (see document, Capture Report 061308: Spectral Anomaly - "Fractured Major Core", for details).

Observations:

  * During capture PC-2 received critical damage that resulted in it's core being fractured and a sizable sliver separated from the main mass. This event was of note for two reasons:
  * Firstly, PC-2 did not immediately destabilize and dissipate like expected. Instead the damaged core entered a hibernation-like state.
  * Secondly, the separated core sliver did not dissipate either. Instead the sliver began reforming into a separate core of its own.
  * For the purpose of studying this phenomenon, the minor core was contained and then submerged in ectoplasm to preserve it and prevent destabilization during testing. Unexpectedly, the minor core began forming a spectral body of its own, despite efforts to interrupt the process.
  * The minor core, now referred to as PC-2.5 was formed from the major core of PC-2.
  * The core trauma inccured resulted in an unintentional form of asexual spectral reproduction. Though it is important to note that any ghost under an 8 would have dissipated during the process due to the damage.



Proposed Theories:

  * This unexpected behavior can be compared to a lizard dropping its tail when attacked or a starfish regrowing from a lost limb after an injury. 'Core Splintering' may be a form of self defense or preservation.



_Getting really sick of the word 'proposed'. There have to be synonyms that would work with the scientific format._

●Ecto Genetic-familial relation between currently documented PC specters. An interesting theory gaining traction within the department is that PC-2 may, in fact, be a genetic parent or relative to PC-1, considering the sibling-like appearance between PC-1 and PC-2.5 and the fact that PC-2.5 is a direct spawn from PC-2.

Observations:

  * Initially, PC-2 was compared to PC-1 because of their similar ecto signatures.
  * After PC-2 was finished reforming and a visual assessment could be conducted, their physical resemblance became apparent. The similarities between the two specters was curious and coincidental enough to warrant more research.
  * It wasn't until PC-2.5 finished forming, again, with a very similar ecto signature and physical appearance to PC- 1 & PC-2, that the proposal of creating a subspecies was tabled and accepted.



Proposed Theories:

  * The implication of some form of specter reproduction within the PC subspecies, and potentially others, outside of Traumatic Death Events (TDE).



_Oh fuck fuck fuck it's 4:43, where did the time go? Frantic fingers fly over their abused keyboard. Why are there so many freaking observation notes that have to be condensed and simplified? What was it that did Dr.Yugetts wanted to do with PC-2.5 this week? Papers fly and fall off a cramped corner desk. Where is that stupid post-it note!?_

* * *

**Closing Notes/Proposed Next Steps:**

●Soon PC-2 will have recovered enough to risk replicating the 'Core Splintering' defense mechanism that resulted in the first minor core to see if the event can be duplicated.

●Once the full range of tests have been run on PC-2.5, Dr. Nonnathi Yugetts and a select number of ecto-behavioral researchers are interested in exploring the social interspecies interaction aspects of the Ecto Genetic-Familial Relation theory.

They would like to ascertain whether or not specters:

  * Will act territorial towards immature/young specters.
  * Will act territorial towards their own kin.
  * Can recognize their own offspring.
  * Possess parental/child rearing instincts.



When testing on PC-2.5 concludes, the specter will become expendable. Since PC-2.5 has recently become unstable, lacking the resiliency of PC-1, the observational benefits of introducing PC-2.5 to PC-2's containment cell will outweigh the cost of attempting to keep PC-2.5 stable.

Report Submitted:

4:56 CST. 111208. ID#5082

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just consider this a one-shot for now.


End file.
